Shortstories

I Am The Ghostly Seeker

I am a ghost that spends all of its time looking for itself. I look for myself everywhere, hoping that if I’m quick enough, deft enough, clever enough I might just catch sight of myself! I am the ghostly seeker. I never get tired of seeking because I know that I’m there somewhere. I hope that I am, anyway. Hoping and knowing have got confused in my mind.

Hoping and knowing have got terminally confused in my mind – there is no separating them. I’m too scared even to try. I don’t want to try. Instead of trying to separate hoping and knowing I keep on searching for myself, searching under every stone in case I might be there. Looking behind every bush, behind every hedgerow. Am I there? Am I there? Am I there?

Seeking’s great, isn’t it. Only it isn’t. It isn’t great at all. It goes on forever. It’s dry seeking. Hollow seeking. Pointless seeking. Seeking that goes on forever. I’m forever watching out; my restless eyes scanning every corner of the room. I’m a scanner. I’m a scanning device. I never stop scanning. That’s the sentence that I am serving. The sentence that has been passed down to me on account of my crimes. Which are obviously bad ones. For the crimes which I have committed and the crimes that I have yet to commit. But which I will…

But they are ghostly crimes. Crimes committed by a ghost. Crimes committed by someone who isn’t there. My crime is that I keep on hoping. The crime of hope. Hope crime. No matter what it may say in the Bible, hope is the one sin that can never be forgiven! Hope is also the one crime that I have no choice in committing. I don’t choose to hope. Hope isn’t voluntary…

Hope is the other side of fear! I’m driven to keep on hoping by the fear that I dare not face. The fear that I might not be here at all. My seeking is the lie that I can’t stop telling myself. It’s the lie that goes on and on and on forever. Lies are great aren’t they? They’re so comforting, so soothing, so reassuring. Only they’re not great. They’re not great at all…